One Way Ticket to the Bacchanal
by Chasing Rabbits
Summary: It's the night before Kyle's eighteenth birthday. With finals coming up and the pressures of his impending college career looming over him, he's stressed to his breaking point. Luckily, two of his friends know how to remedy that. Kyle/Kenny/Butters.


It's the last two weeks of his high school career, and while practically every other high school senior in South Park is enjoying a veritable orgy of booze, partying, and general slacking off, Kyle Broflovski is holed up in his room, trying to make sense of his calculus homework. He's already taken his AP exam, but his teacher is actually an ex-college professor from Boston who was ordered to take a sabbatical for "mental health reasons". Kyle got crushed by his midterm, and he doesn't even like discussing his final from last semester.

Normally, math comes easily to him, like music comes to Stan, or debate comes to Cartman, or nailing anything with a pulse comes to Kenny. Math is this higher power, this universal, symbiotic thing that puts everything in its proper place and that speaks to Kyle in ways that nothing else does. This is his subject, the one infallibly beautiful thing that gives him so much joy, so much satisfaction.

And right now, he cannot fucking wrap his head around this goddamned problem. He's started it over a dozen times now, and every time he ends up tripping where he shouldn't, over things that wouldn't even trip up the most vacant of students.

"Fuck!" he shouts as he takes his eraser to his page, going so vehemently that he rips through the paper entirely. This only serves to anger him further, leading him to kick over his wastebasket and give a frustrated shout that brings his dad to the door.

"Kyle, are you okay?" he asks.

"I can't figure out this problem and it's pissing me the fuck off!" he shouts, not caring that his mother might hear and come up to give him a lecture on swearing. His dad doesn't mind so much, understands that Kyle's got a bit of a tempter that needs to be diffused every once in a while.

"Well, getting upset won't get it done," his father says very practically. "You've been up here for hours, Kyle, your mother and I are worried."

"Dad, you don't get it, all right?" Kyle snaps. "This test is going to be fucking awful, and I need to get an A in this class."

"Kyle, you're being way too hard on yourself," his dad just shakes his head. "You're two weeks away from graduating, no one's expecting you to work this hard."

"Well, I am!" Kyle bites back. "If I don't get an A in this class, I pretty much just wasted a year of my life."

"All right," his dad sighs and hangs his head, pausing for a beat before coming in and taking the book and notes off of Kyle's desk.

"Dad, what the hell?" Kyle asks, standing right alongside him. He's not as tall as his dad yet, but thankfully he staved off his mother's genes and actually surpassed being five feet tall some time ago. According to his dad, most Broflovski men don't hit their final growth spurts until some time in their early twenties. Taking into account maybe getting a couple more inches, he might get up to six feet if he's lucky… and if his mother's angry dwarf genes don't come in and cheat him out of those last three inches, just out of spite.

"I'm taking this, Kyle," his dad says very frankly. "It's a Friday night. You should be out with your friends, having a good time."

"My friends?" Kyle's eyebrows fly up of their own accord. "Do you know where my friends are? Stan's at the movies with his girlfriend, Kenny's probably passed out on the floor of a seedy nightclub somewhere, and—oh, right! Those are my friends."

His dad just gives him a sympathetic look and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Go for a walk, go see a movie—hell, go get drunk and hang upside down off a water tower. Just go out and experience life for a little while. As long as you get home safe, otherwise your mom will get mad at me."

Kyle lets out a frustrated groan, but his dad threatens to pick him up and carry him out the door himself, so to spare them both the embarrassment, Kyle goes willingly. His dad even gives him twenty dollars and tells him to go crazy, which makes Kyle roll his eyes. He'll be eighteen tomorrow—his dad's been trying to get him to do irresponsible stuff all week, since it's the last time he'll be able to say "I'm a kid, I was young and stupid".

He looks at his watch. In six hours, he can officially no longer call himself a kid.

Kyle tucks the money into his pocket and takes off down the street, no real destination or purpose in mind. He wishes he was one of those people who felt comfortable just sitting outside and taking solace in nature (Ike's like that, but he did also just read _Walden_ and so now thinks that he's a better person for being in touch with nature on an intellectual level), but he's not. He's always been one of those people who has to be doing something, otherwise he just sits around and gets kind of frantic. He figures it's a good trait for an adult to have, when there's a billion things to do, but when you're a kid and supposed to be doing nothing, it does kind of set you apart.

He's just got a lot of energy pent up, okay?

When he walks by Kenny's house, he sees Kenny's shitty Gremlin (that he's fixed himself, no help from his dad or Kevin required, as he'll remind anyone who'll listen) parked out front and his bedroom light on. It doesn't appear that anyone else is home, though, which means that Kenny is probably upstairs, drinking booze and smoking weed.

Generally, he tries to stay away from alcohol, since his older cousin (also a diabetic) drank himself into a small coma at his first frat party at ASU a few years ago.

Like his mom says, there's one in every family.

He's also never smoked weed. Not that Kyle ever plans on running for office or anything like that, but he's always thought that it's wise to keep one's record as clean as possible when it comes to that kind of thing.

Then again, that "young and stupid" excuse does sound pretty valid right about now… He practically bounds up the walk and knocks on the door. There's no answer, but the door is open, as always. Cartman says that's because they don't have anything worth stealing, and it's the only thing Kenny will actually agree with him about.

Kyle pushes his way into the dingy, moth-eaten, roach-infested living room, and turns on the light. He grimaces when a swarm of bugs disperses back into their hiding places, and fights every urge he has to clean.

"Kenny?" he calls, but there's no answer. He must have his headphones in or something. Kyle takes off his shoes and tiptoes very quietly up the stairs, just in case anyone else _is_ home and asleep (he does not like crossing Kenny's family), and finds Kenny's door just slightly ajar. Kyle rolls his eyes—no one must be home then. He's about to kick the door in, to yell "Surprise, bitch!" but a loud, desperate groan hits his ears and makes him stop dead in his tracks.

Kyle peeks through the crack, cheeks already turning a little pink as he sees the familiar form of Kenny, stark naked taking a drag off the end of a joint and exhaling, handing it off then to someone on the bed. Kyle takes a chance and pushes the door open a little further, sighing in relief when it doesn't creak.

Oh god.

That is Butters Stotch, buck naked on Kenny's bed, taking a drag off of a joint.

Kyle's pretty sure his brain just went into processing overload.

This is wrong, this is so wrong. He should just turn right back around and run. Run to the movie theater, break into every single show he can to shout "Kenny and Butters were naked and smoking weed together, I think they're having sex!" until he finds the theater in which Stan is undoubtedly making out with his girlfriend. But he can't took away. Kenny stubs out the joint and lays it in the handmade ashtray on his nightstand.

"Smooth, right?" he asks and steps closer to the bed, reaching down to run his fingers through Butters' hair. Butters just hums and sits up.

"Aw, Ken, you know I don't know anythin' about pot," Butters looks up at Kenny, running his fingers over the skin on his stomach before grabbing him by the hips and pulling him in close. Butters is hard—even in the dim light from Kenny's thrift store lamp, Kyle can see that.

"Savage," Kenny jests back lightly, inky tattoos twisting up his arm and over his shoulder blade and gliding over his muscles as he dips down to give Butters a kiss. Kyle's mouth goes dry, probably because his jaw is hanging open and his tongue is practically on the floor.

These two kiss like there's no one else in the world, all soft desperate noises and breathy moans as Kenny gets down on his knees and starts kissing Butters' chest. Butters sighs into it, burying his nose in Kenny's hair and holding onto him like there's nothing else keeping him tethered to this planet.

Then Kenny's arm shifts and Butters gives a happy little mewl, and, oh god, Kenny's touching him. Kyle's getting hard in his pants, uncomfortably so. Okay, so it's impossible to deny that Butters is an attractive guy—at least to Kyle's mind. He's some strange hybrid of all-American farm boy and amateur porn twink that makes Kyle's thoughts get all fuzzy and his face get all hot.

"_Oh_," Butters hitches slightly, laughing a little as he threads his fingers through Kenny's hair. "Your hands are amazing."

"Yeah?" Kenny asks, looking up with an undoubtedly smug smirk on his face. "Better than my mouth?"

Butters and Kyle both let out an embarrassing noise at that. Kyle's, luckily, goes unheard, drowned out by the long, needy whine that tears out of Butters' throat as Kenny ducks and sinks his mouth down around Butters' erection.

Kyle can't take it anymore. He's unmistakably hard now, getting all dizzy and out of breath as he watches Kenny's head bob expertly over Butters. He reaches down to adjust himself through his pants, all hot and clumsy, and—_fuck_—he bumps his elbow against the door. Kenny and Butters both jump at the thud while Kyle winces at the squeaking hinges, and goes stock still when Kenny and Butters settle their eyes on him.

"_Kyle_?" Kenny asks as Butters grabs Kenny's flat, threadbare pillow to cover himself. "What the fuck, how long have you been there?"

"Uh," Kyle looks off to the side and tries to shift so that his erection isn't visible, but Kenny is, unfortunately, already all over it.

"Dude, are you getting off on watching me and Butters?" Kenny's eyebrows are high on his forehead, and it only takes a second for him to break out into an impish grin. "Holy fuck, you totally are. Look how hard he is," Kenny hops up onto the bed and smacks Butters on the arm, nodding at Kyle.

"Okay, yeah, I'm going now," Kyle says and turns to leave, but he hears Butters call out a little "wait!" that makes him actually stop in his tracks.

"What?" he asks.

"Turn around," Butters says, and Kyle finds himself obeying. Kenny is draped over Butters, silver studs in his ear glinting in the dim light as he leans forward to lick at the sinewy column of Butters' neck. "C'mere," he holds out his hand, crooking a beckoning finger toward him. Kyle shakes his head.

"Not if he's gonna be a dick about it," he replies very frankly.

"He won't be," Butters shakes his head, and Kyle cocks an eyebrow right as Kenny says, "But it's so good."

"Kenny, be nice," Butters chides Kenny softly, looking over at him and giving him a chastising little nip on his lower lip. They fit together nicely, more so than Kyle would have thought.

"Dude, will you get the stick out of your ass and come here?" Kenny says, pulling Kyle out of his thoughts. Kyle steps forward and, because he's a logical, sane person, turns around and shuts the door, even locks it for good measure. He looks back to Butters and Kenny, hands on his hips and giving them a stern look.

"So, what's all this about?" he asks. Kenny and Butters take a moment, look from Kyle to each other and, of all the things, start laughing.

"Who are you, our dad?" Kenny howls. "Jesus Christ, look at those shoulders. Loosen up, dude, before you have a heart attack or something."

"Fuck you!" Kyle exclaims, dropping his shoulders almost immediately. "How the fuck long has this been going on?"

"Ah, I think I got here 'bout twenty minutes ago?" Butters guesses, which makes both him and Kenny laugh even harder. Kyle rolls his eyes and folds his arms, pretending that there aren't two naked guys laughing at him like he's the fool here.

They are high, though.

"If I'd known I'd be getting any visitors, I'd have locked the fucking door," Kenny wipes just under his eyes. "Forgive me, but you guys aren't exactly in the habit of stopping by."

Kyle shifts and rubs his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I was out taking a walk and I thought I'd come by and see what you were doing and—fuck, I'm sorry," he turns to leave, but Butters is on his feet sooner than Kyle can think and pulls him back.

"Don't go," Butters' fingers brush over the backs of Kyle's hands. He's grown into his face; Kyle hesitates to admit that it's actually kind of handsome. He's got a nicely angled jaw and hideously straight, white teeth behind these full pink lips that make Kyle's throat close up.

"What?" Kyle asks, voice all thick and scratchy. Butters grabs Kyle's jaw in one of his big, square hands and looks at him intently. His eyes are big and light blue, the kind that you're pretty sure can look right through you if you're not paying attention.

He sees something, Kyle thinks, something that makes him smile and go back to Kenny and whisper in his ear. Kenny perks up at whatever Butters is saying and turns to give him a smacking kiss on the lips.

"You're a fucking genius, dude," he says and stands, coming to slide up right beside Kyle. Kenny's always been good-looking, in a scrappy, Little Rascals sort of way that just sort of grew up into an undeniable charm. He's a little scarred up in places, and way skinnier than he's meant to be probably. Kyle licks his lips when Kenny's hand comes to rest on his shoulder, way more out of breath than he was just a second ago.

"My cohort informs me that you're a little stressed," Kenny says, his voice all husky and low in Kyle's ear. He runs a finger along Kyle's jaw and gives him that Cheshire Cat grin, "We've got a cure for that, if you want."

Kyle blinks a few times, looking between Kenny and Butters like they're both about to break out into raucous laughter again and tell him he's on Punk'd or something. Butters seems to sense this and steps forward, bringing a hand up to Kyle's cheek and stroking softly.

"You like bein' kissed?" he asks, getting closer and closer to Kyle with every word. Kyle nods dumbly. He can't boast being kissed a whole lot, certainly not as much as Stan or Kenny, but he does like it. Butters grins a little, "Can I kiss you, then?"

Kyle's a little dumbstruck by this, but he must've nodded because just like that, Butters' lips close softly over his, and they're kissing, sweet and slow.

It doesn't occur to him to be weirded out at Butters being a guy. Maybe that's saying a little more than he's willing to admit right now. Butters pulls away before it can go too far, smiling at Kyle and searching his eyes for something as his thumb strokes over his cheek.

It's a few moments before Kyle finally finds his voice, "So, what's this remedy exactly?"

Kenny and Butters both chuckle a bit before Kenny goes back to the little table beside his bed and grabs the joint and lighter out of the ashtray.

"Some TLC and a little weed," he says and lights up, giving Kyle a knowing look. "You've never done this before."

"Which?" Kyle asks as Butters slides his hands over his chest. Kenny shrugs and takes a drag.

"Any of it," he says and lets out a steady stream of pungent smoke. He passes it off to Butters, who inhales a little more inexpertly before passing it off to Kyle. Kyle takes it and runs his tongue over his lips.

"No," he admits, frustration and anger replaced almost entirely by a big bundle of nerves in his gut.

"I mean, it's strong stuff" Kenny says, "got it from a guy who gets his from a dispensary, so it's medical grade or whatever. But if this is your first time, it might not do anything for you, man." He then grins at Kyle's obvious confusion, "Just inhale and hold it for a little."

Kyle nods and holds it to his lips, tentatively taking in a drag. He expects it to burn, but it doesn't, so he takes in more. He stops when he feels the smoke start to curl in his lungs and holds it in as long as he can, which doesn't turn out to be too impressive before he's overcome by an entirely too long coughing fit.

"Aw, poor fella," Butters pouts and takes the joint from Kyle, patting his back as he passes it back to Kenny. "It's all right, Kenny thinks weed heals everything."

"Show me any study that disproves that," Kenny says, taking another drag before stubbing it out again.

"That's not… how you _prove_ an argument," Kyle frowns a little. His head feels like it's buzzing a little bit, but he's not overcome by the trademark giggle fits or the sluggish feeling all those drug PSAs told him he would be.

He's probably way more willing to let Butters' hands slip up under his shirt than normal, though, but he can't pretend he's upset. Butters' hands feel good on him, skating over his stomach and up his chest, dragging his fingernails every so often before he goes back to kissing.

He is a _very_ good kisser.

Kyle feels Kenny come up behind him, resting his hands on his hips and nosing at the back of his neck, kissing and nipping and grinning against his skin. He can feel Kenny's erection pressing into him through his jeans and sighs.

"How're you feeling?" Kenny murmurs, and Kyle hears himself moan a little.

"Great," he replies dazedly. "Really fucking great." Butters smiles at him, and Kyle smiles back.

"Want this off?" Butters asks, fingers playing with the hem of Kyle's shirt. Kyle just nods, embarrassed by how such a light touch is threatening to set him off.

"Yeah," he breathes. "It's two, though. The green one's underneath the gray one."

"Thanks, I reckon I can manage that," Butters laughs and leans up to peck Kyle again before pulling both shirts over his head in one fell swoop. It's only then that Kyle's reminded of how wiry and freckly he is under his clothes, nowhere near how good-looking Kenny and Butters are naked. Butters smiles anyway, smoothing his hands back over the exposed skin and ducking forward to kiss it, right in the center of his chest.

"Man, you're already so much looser," Kenny murmurs in his ear as he runs his hands over Kyle's shoulders. He slings his arm over Kyle's chest and plays with one of Kyle's nipples absently as he moves to kiss Butters. Their mouths sliding together, smacking and clicking so close to Kyle's ear is getting him really hard.

"Oh god," Kyle hears himself mutter, arms hanging limply at his sides as Butters and Kenny sandwich him in. Kenny's fingers are still teasing his nipple, and Butters' free hand (the one that's not crushing Kenny's face against his) comes up to rub lightly at the other.

"Wow," Butters says softly as he pulls back, giving Kyle a dazed and glazed over look as he flits his gaze down to where Kyle is strained uncomfortably against his jeans. "You're real hard, Kyle."

"Gee, you don't fucking say," Kyle bites back, only to be subjected to the sharp sting of Kenny's teeth against his earlobe.

"Be nice to my boy," Kenny warns gruffly, and Kyle whines in response.

"I'm so hard, Kenny," he says, letting his head fall back and rest against Kenny's shoulder.

"I know," Kenny replies softly, running his fingers lightly down Kyle's chest and abdomen. He teases the soft skin right above the button on his jeans in mind-numbing, barely-there strokes that make Kyle whimper with need.

"Aw, Kenny, don't tease him," Butters pouts a little and goes to do exactly that, running his fingers over the outline of Kyle's erection through his jeans.

"You guys are such assholes," Kyle whines.

"Oh, we're not so bad," Butters gives a hazy smile and starts unbuttoning Kyle's pants, dragging the zipper down tooth by tooth as he comes forward to lick Kyle's neck. Kyle hiccups when the cool air in the room hits him, stepping out of his pants and underwear, leaving them in a discarded puddle on the floor. He whines when Butters kisses him again and brings a hand not to his cock, but to his balls, aching and heavy between his legs, playing with them gently.

"Oh, _fuck_," Kyle groans, and he can practically hear Kenny roll his eyes.

"Dude, seriously," he mutters, "I have to do everything around here?"

"Wait," Butters clumsily holds up a finger on his free hand, just as Kyle's starting to get that familiar pull in his gut. "He's gonna come if you touch him."

"God, fucking—touch me, _please_," Kyle begs. Butters' hand on him isn't enough—it's good, but it's going to be torture if they make him finish like this.

"Oh, dude," Kenny pulls a face. "Dude, come on, he's _begging_. I don't like it."

"He's gonna come!" Butters laughs a little, eyes all glossed over and grin all disconnected.

"He's gonna come anyway," Kenny argues, smiling and chuckling too. "He'll get hard again, trust me."

Kyle can't muster up the energy to remind them both that he's right there, that it's rude to talk about someone like they're not in the room. He's strangely okay with whatever they decide to do, though that's probably just the lack of blood to his brain talking right now.

"All right," Butters puts up both of his hands, making Kyle moan and thrust up, looking for some sort of friction to take the edge off. "Kiss him first, though. S'only polite."

Kyle and Kenny stare at Butters for a second, and suddenly Kyle gets the feeling that Butters isn't the spineless Melvin that he lets everyone believe he is. He's still smiling, but his eyebrows are cocked in silent challenge, one that makes Kenny spin Kyle around and look at him intently. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as he chews on his lip, silently asking Kyle's permission. And okay, they have been friends for upwards of fifteen years, and this is not something friends do, but Kyle's actually desperate. He flies forward and crushes their mouths together, groaning as Kenny's tongue slides in against his.

Then Kyle tastes something distinct and unfamiliar and remembers that, oh yeah, Kenny's mouth was just on Butters' cock a few seconds ago… minutes ago?

God, _hours_ ago?

Everything's all warped, but Kyle does not give a flying fuck. He just sucks Kenny's tongue further into his mouth and wraps his arms around Kenny's neck. He feels Butters come up behind him this time, kissing his shoulders and reaching down between them to wrap his hand around Kyle's cock. Kyle rips his mouth away from Kenny's, groaning and whining embarrassingly loud as Butters teases over him in light, even strokes.

His orgasm hits him without warning, tearing through him as he bucks up into Butters' fist, spattering come all over Butters' hand and Kenny's stomach. He slumps against Kenny, breathing hard and not sure he'll ever come down from whatever high this is.

"You okay?" Kenny laughs a bit, stroking his hand through Kyle's sweat-damp curls. Kyle nods and lets Kenny and Butters guide him back to Kenny's lumpy mattress. He's able to prop himself up against the wall, though he feels a little like there's a disconnect between his brain and the rest of him. Soon he finds himself curled up in Kenny's scratchy blankets, trying to fight off the urge to sleep as Butters and Kenny stand and stare at him.

They're both still hard, fuck. How do they have this kind of stamina?

"Aw, he's fallin' asleep," Butters says, sounding disproportionately disappointed. Kenny just grins and pulls Butters toward him, giving him a tonguey kiss. Kyle moans at this, his spent, oversensitive cock giving an interested twitch.

"Give him a sec," Kenny murmurs against Butters' lips, grinning still before he sits Butters back on the bed, resuming the same positions they were in when Kyle interrupted them.

Kenny grabs Butters by the hips and sucks him back down, face intent and focused as he works over him. Kyle doesn't know how long he watches this, only knows that he feels himself moving over toward them after a period of time. He sits on the edge of the bed beside Butters, the slick sounds of Kenny's mouth moving over him getting Kyle all sorts of excited again.

Butters opens his eyes, looking over at Kyle for a second before he gives him another smile and brings him into a kiss. When they pull back, Butters whines a little and asks Kyle, "How you holdin' up, buddy?"

"Okay," Kyle finds himself replying. He's hard again, by some accident of nature. He's never had this quick of a recovery period before, content usually to pull himself off once and fall asleep.

Butters just nods at this, though, and kisses him again, shorter this time. He breaks to gasp, tightening the hand he has in Kenny's hair and sending Kenny into bobbing his head that much more frantically.

"Know what you oughta—ah Kenny, _fuck_!" Butters whines and tugs again before looking over at Kyle. "You should go jerk Kenny off," Butters suggests so sweetly that Kyle can't help but comply. He slides off the bed and tries to put together an economical way to do this. He looks down at where Kenny's cock is curled against his stomach, flushed and swollen, angry red and leaking, and gulps back the lump in his throat.

He reaches out and closes his hand around it, breath hitching when Kenny moans and hugs Butters closer to him. He's swallowed Butters all the way down now, nothing visibly moving but his tongue and the sinewy muscles in his throat.

Fuck, Kenny's deep-throating Butters. If Kyle's mind were made of machinery, he's pretty sure he'd be sparking out of his ears right now. Kyle moves his hand rather inexpertly over Kenny, completely transfixed by the steady sounds pouring out of both him and Butters as they get lost in each other.

Kenny comes first, shooting over Kyle's hand and his bed. He groans around Butters and pulls back just as Butters yelps and curls in on himself, holding Kenny's head in place as his hips twitch up into his mouth. They don't even give each other any recovery time before they're kissing, Butters so into it that he actually slides off the bed and pins Kenny down on the floor.

Kyle's cock aches as he watches this, so much so that he can't really help it; he reaches down and, hand still slick from Kenny's come, starts stroking himself. He sighs into it, slumping against the bed and shutting his eyes as his hand strokes over the still sensitive skin.

"Oh, fuck," Kyle hears a croaking voice and opens his eyes. Butters and Kenny are both watching him, tangled up in each other and breathing heavily through their swollen, kiss-bruised lips. Kyle kind of likes it, getting all this attention, so he arches into his touch and starts touching himself, making a little show of it.

"You were right," Butters says softly, transfixed.

"I know," Kenny nods, sounding a little surprised through the rawness of his voice. He sits up, a hand still petting through Butters' hair as he leans in close and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is makes Butters moan and hang his head, nodding like he's just heard is the best idea ever.

"Kyle," Kenny grins, crawling forward just a little and kissing him softly. Kyle whines, the taste of Butters thick and heavy on Kenny's tongue now. He likes it, though, and whimpers when Kenny pulls away again. "Kyle, do you want me to fuck you?"

"Wh-what?" Kyle asks, his voice rough and scratchy. Kenny grins and kisses him again.

"I'll be careful, I promise," he says, eyes all glazed over and pink around the edges. "If you want, I'd like to."

"What's Butters gonna do?" Kyle hears his voice unfurl out into the stuffy bedroom air.

"Anything you'd like," Butters beams and crawls over, slinging an arm around Kenny's shoulder. "I could suck you off, or you could fuck me, or I could fuck Kenny… He likes it when I do that."

Kenny gives Kyle a confirming nod, eyelids fluttering slightly as Butters toys with the studs in his earlobe. Kyle nods, he doesn't think he could deny these two anything right now, even if he wanted.

"I don't care," he shakes his head. "I mean, whatever… please, just—fuck me."

Kenny laughs and bows his head, looking back up at Kyle with a charming smile.

"All right, gimme a second," he says and rolls shakily to his feet. Butters scoots closer to him and halts Kyle's hand, kissing him and smiling against his mouth while Kenny rummages through his dresser drawer.

"Mm, you taste like my come," he hums softly and runs his fingers through Kyle's curls, kissing him again. He pulls back and looks down at Kyle's cock, running his tongue over his lips and ducking down to lick along the very tip of him.

"Oh fuck," Kyle whines as Butters sucks him into his mouth. It's wet and warm and it's sending shocks through Kyle's limbs, still sensitive and more than a little fuzzy in the head. Kenny looks back a bottle of lube and a box of condoms in his hands, and makes an indignant face.

"Hey," he pouts and gets on the floor, on the opposite side of Kyle. He gets in close to where Butters is bobbing his head and says, low in his throat, "If you make him come before I get to fuck him, I'm taking it out on your ass instead."

Butters whines and it sends these mind-melting vibrations down Kyle's dick and through his core. Luckily, Butters pulls off of him before he gets too far gone, closing the gap between him and Kenny to give him a kiss.

"I couldn't wait," Butters gives a bashful laugh when he pulls back. Kyle watches both of them intently—there's something in the way that Kenny looks at Butters that Kyle's never seen before. Then again, he's never seen Kenny have sex with anyone, so it could just be that.

Kenny looks up at Kyle before he can say anything, though, and gives him a grin.

"He's good at that, huh?" he asks, cheeks wrinkling as he breaks out into that smile, and Kyle just nods. Kenny nods back and gives him a pat on the thigh.

"All right," he says. "Up on the bed, Broflovski. Let's do you right."

Butters and Kenny both hoist Kyle back up onto the bed, propping him up against the pillows and being gentle with him, like they know how close he is to becoming wrecked beyond repair. Butters settles up next to him, drawing designs over Kyle's chest and stomach with his fingers while Kenny cracks the lube open and slicks up his fingers.

"Ready?" he asks, and Kyle nods.

"Don't worry," Butters says softly, "Kenny's real good with his hands."

Kenny looks up at Butters and gives him what feels like a private smile, before Kyle feels a cold slickness against his entrance. Kenny lets out a whistle. He's not even in yet, but he still comes out with, "Goddamn, boy, you are tighter than Joan Rivers' face down here."

This makes Butters roll his eyes and mutter out a halfhearted, "You faggot."

"You come over here and feel it, I'm not kidding!" Kenny exclaims, and Butters rolls his eyes again, but complies. He squirts a little lube over his fingers and, almost clinically, rubs against Kyle's entrance.

"Oh, jeez," he frowns.

"What?" Kyle props himself up on his elbows, but Butters just shakes his head and takes Kyle's dick in his hand and starts pumping again. There's lube on his hand, slicking his movements and apparently getting Kyle to relax just enough for Kenny to slide one of his fingers in. It's an odd sensation, but if Kenny and Butters both like it, there's gotta be something to it, right?

The next finger stings a little more, stretches him to what feels like breaking, even though Kenny goes slow and his fingers are nice and deft. They work into him thoroughly, making Kyle feel at least a little better about things being up his ass.

He outright whines when Kenny crooks his finger against his prostate. That's the thing that makes this feel good, right? Kyle's dawdled on websites before, done some halfhearted research after a few disastrous dates with girls… he's not proud of it.

"Fuck, Kenny," he all but sobs as Kenny's fingers keep driving against it, and Butters keeps working his hand. "God, please just do it?"

Kenny just gives him this blank sort of look and asks, "Do what?"

"Gah, fuck me!" Kyle shouts. "You fucking twat!"

Kenny smiles wide and withdraws his fingers, bringing them up in a little salute. "Sure thing, boss."

Kyle suppresses an eye roll, and settles back while Kenny puts on his condom and slicks up. He's a ball of nerves right now, and Butters' hand still moving on him is only making that slightly better. He screws his eyes shut when he feels Kenny position against him, and almost laughs when Butters tells him to relax.

"Yeah, he's way tight," Kenny grunts as he attempts to push in, but Kyle seizes.

"Fuck!" he snaps. "I am right. here!"

"Stop yelling at me, that's only gonna make it worse!" Kenny shouts back.

"Aw, Jesus, will everyone just take it easy?" Butters pleads.

"I'm gonna hurt him if he doesn't relax," Kenny exclaims, looking at Butters like he's the only sane person left on the planet. Butters nods and pets his free hand over Kenny's hair.

"I know," Butters says softly and kisses him before stretching out beside them as best he can. He gives Kyle a reassuring smile and takes him in his mouth again, moving expertly. Kyle feels his toes curl at the sensation, a whimper escaping his throat as Kenny comes forward and cups his face in his hands.

"I'm gonna take care of you, okay dude?" he says earnestly and gives Kyle a firm kiss. "I promise. Whatever it is, we'll make it go away."

Kyle nods and moans as Butters swallows him down further. He's getting back into the feeling again as his eyes slip shut. Stan always talks about how great blowjobs are—Kenny does too. Now he knows why.

Then Kenny's against him again, but before he can feel himself clench again, Butters hums around him and gets him to start panting and writhing like an animal in heat as Kenny pushes into him. He feels full, disconnected from everything that's kept him so bogged down over the last few weeks, lost entirely to the world at large.

"How're you doin', Kyle?" Kenny pants as he and Butters readjust slightly, so Kyle's legs are around Kenny's waist. It looks to be an awkward angle, but somehow Butters makes it work and goes back to work distracting Kyle from the _dick._

in his _ass_.

"You okay?" Kenny asks, and Kyle nods again.

"Yeah," he rasps out. "Please, just—_fuck_." He doesn't know what he wants, but he's got the feeling that Kenny doesn't need an explicit set of instructions. He starts moving inside Kyle, starting out with slow, shallow thrusts that burn like hell, but somehow end up giving way to making him feel incredible. Kenny picks up his pace and Butters has to draw back, wiping at his mouth and watching the sight before him like he's a kid in a candy store.

"Damn," he croaks. "You two're just… _damn_."

Kyle doesn't have the capacity to answer, just raises his hips to meet Kenny's thrusts as best he can. Kenny's fucking into him steadily now, and Kyle knows he's making all sorts of embarrassing noises as he promptly forgets everything his brain has ever bothered to soak up. There are no thoughts, only the hazy crackle of white noise and the occasional expletive.

He comes the moment Kenny closes a hand over him, writhing and shouting and bucking up so hard that Kenny loses it and comes too, slamming his hips into Kyle without mercy. Another second later and Butters is right behind them, crying out softly and spilling all over his own hand and Kenny's sheets.

It comes to Kyle's attention that he has a massive, throbbing headache as Kenny and Butters come to rest on either side of him. He can't remember ever being this exhausted in his life; every single muscle in his body is crying out at being stretched too far and too thin, but he still manages to feel good.

Lighter.

He doesn't even realize he fell asleep until his body snaps him back into consciousness. He's got Kenny's hand on his chest, Butters' on his stomach, and for a few good seconds he can't for the life of him figure out just what the hell is going on.

Then he remembers and decides that, no, he's not going to dwell on this, thank you.

There's no clock in Kenny's room, so Kyle, all sweaty and sticky and gross, has to sort of dislodge himself as best he can without waking his sleeping bedfellows and tread softly over to his discarded pants and pull his phone from the wreckage. His phone has been on silent, and so far he's only got one missed text from his dad, asking "Where are you?", which means he's been covering for him on the Sheila front. He's about to text back when he realizes, fuck, that it's three minutes past midnight.

He did it.

He's eighteen.

And he spent the last fledgling hours of his youth engaged in a fucking orgy of some sort… he doesn't even know.

Quietly, he pulls on his clothes and his socks, all somehow splayed across the room haphazardly. He thinks about waking Kenny to tell him he's leaving, but decides against it. He pads softly out the room and down the stairs—again, just in case anyone's come home in the last few hours. He pulls on his shoes and proceeds toward the door, successfully exiting the house without waking up any cranky drunks or sex-crazed maniacs.

Kyle's going to have a hard time convincing himself that whatever the fuck just happened wasn't a figment of his imagination.

"Hey, Kyle!" he hears Kenny's groggy voice shout behind him and stops. He's barely past their property line… it figures Kyle wouldn't be able to sneak out of this clean. He turns and sees Kenny, torn up jeans and a Muppets t-shirt that has to be Butters' hanging off of him as he runs barefoot to catch up with Kyle.

"Dude, sneaking out?" he asks, broad grin back in place. "Didn't think that was your style."

"Uh, it's late," Kyle shrugs, looking down as he slips his hands in his pockets. "And I didn't want to wake you guys. You looked all snug or whatever..."

He lets a few moments of silence pass before he looks up at Kenny again.

"Butters, though?"

Kenny tilts his head back and laughs, grabbing at the back of his neck.

"I know," he nods, looking a little far off already. "Who would've thought, right?"

"Yeah," Kyle laughs back and folds his arms over his chest. "How long have you two been…"

"Fucking around?" Kenny supplies, and shrugs when Kyle gives him a nod. "A while."

Kyle feels his grin stretch across his face, "You like him, don't you?"

There's something that flashes behind Kenny's eyes that gives Kyle all the answers he could want on the subject, but Kenny nods anyway and looks down at the sidewalk a little bashfully.

"Yeah," he says. "I really do."

He looks up at Kyle then and, smile still in place, says, "Glad we got that in under the wire, though, huh?"

Kyle frowns, "What?"

"You've been eighteen for, what, almost fifteen minutes now?" Kenny shrugs. "I'm saying, glad we did all that when we did, 'cause statutory is no way to ring in your first day of being legal."

Kyle rolls his eyes and gives Kenny a half-hearted shove. Only, Kenny grabs him by the wrist and pulls him in, giving Kyle absolutely no choice before he plants a big, smacking kiss on his lips.

"Happy birthday, Kyle," Kenny hums and reaches down to grab his ass through his jeans for good measure. "Whatever it is that's been bugging you, don't let it get you too down, okay?"

He gives Kyle one more kiss before raising his hand in a little wave and jogging back into his house, undoubtedly to wrap around Butters and kiss him and cuddle him and do all sorts of things that leave Kyle a little grossed out and dumbstruck.

He turns back toward his house and, as if on auto pilot, starts walking.

"Happy birthday, Kyle," he mimicks Kenny's too-high, too-loud voice, "You just lost your virginity in a threesome."

* * *

**Hi. **

**So, this happened. Inspiration sparked by a lovely picture on y-gal (you can always PM me if you'd like to know which). **

**I blame scarlettshazam. She let this happen. Also, she kickstarted me on it, so... yay. **

**Let's just call it what it is: PWP**

**The title is from _The Orgy_ song from _Reefer Madness: The Movie Musical_. Because I amuse the hell out of myself. **


End file.
